


Don't Know Much About BIOS-logy

by winged_mammal



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Breathplay, F/F, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Restraints, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 23:09:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12781656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winged_mammal/pseuds/winged_mammal
Summary: Shaw asks about Root's intimate relationship with the Machine, with sexy results.





	1. Development

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, this is several thousand words of Root/Shaw/Machine porn with no redeeming value whatsoever. GDocs tells me I've been "working" on this since September of last year but I think the wait's been worth it. (So does Shaw.)
> 
> I don't think there's anything particularly warn-worthy, but a quick rundown of possible squicks: references to anal sex, references to porn, use of strapons, handcuffs, and a collar, various D/s dynamics, spanking, choking, whatever the kink is of having sex with an artificial superintelligence.

When she thinks about it in the future, Shaw won’t be able to say for sure what made her come to the sudden realization, let alone why she allowed it to fall out of her mouth when Root was knuckle deep inside her and making all sorts of breathy promises about the next twenty minutes. It could have been the way Root tilted her head as she considered Shaw’s frustrated cursing at her less than energetic pace, so reminiscent of the way she looks when the Machine is speaking to her. Maybe it was Shaw’s fingers brushing against Root’s implant as she tried to push her head down where it belonged and her brain connected Root, sex, and the Machine with the clarity that only comes with a sex-induced endorphin rush. Or maybe it was just a half remembered sex dream making its way back to her consciousness.

“You’ve totally fucked the Machine before, haven’t you?”

She doesn’t know what made her say it. But when Shaw thinks back to the way Root pulls away and looks down at her, face blank for a long moment before it breaks out in a grin that’s somehow both shy and shit-eating, she’ll think she should have known things would end up the way they did.

“In a manner of speaking,” Root says in that annoyingly attractive enigmatic tone of hers, and Shaw’s hands fall from her hips as Root sits up and tosses her hair over her shoulders. “Why, you jealous?”

There’s a bead of sweat trailing down between Root’s breasts and reddening scratch marks along her sides; her hair is disheveled and her lips are swollen and her fingers are leaving behind a faint wet trail where they’re tracing a playful pattern on Shaw’s thigh, and even if jealousy were a thing that Shaw ever felt she figures it’d be pretty hard to be jealous of whatever Root might get up to with the Machine when Shaw is the one who gets to experience Root like this with the power of all her senses.

“In a manner of speaking?” Shaw licks her lips in the slight chill of the room, tasting Root’s cheap fruity lip gloss, and wiggles her head back into her pillow to settle in. She’s intrigued despite the interruption to her imminent orgasm, but she only has herself to blame, really, and figures she may as well roll with it for a while. “So what, she get you a bluetooth vibrator?”

“She did, actually,” Root smiles, and Shaw huffs out a laugh. “We only used it once though, before you and I started getting hot and heavy.” Root gives Shaw her best leer at this, and Shaw bats her hand away when it reaches out to flick one of her nipples. “It didn’t really hit the spot, you know? Wasn’t what I needed.”

Root pauses, and Shaw knows she’s amusing herself by trying to get her to ask what it was she _did_ need. She’s pretty sure Root’s more eager to burst out with it and see how Shaw reacts than Shaw is to find out though, and the little furrow of Root’s brow when Shaw simply says “huh,” and moves a hand behind her head is far more satisfying for the moment. Root falls back onto the bed and scooches up next to Shaw on her side, resting her cheek on a closed fist as she looks expectantly at her.

Shaw’s not a known proponent of patience in bed, but she’s always in favor of messing with Root when she’s being a little shit.

Long moments pass, the only noise coming from the dishwasher out in the kitchen that Root had for once taken the initiative to start - an occasion that had led to them falling into bed in the first place. Finally Shaw opens her mouth and Root’s lips curl into the makings of a cheshire grin.

“So I took Bear to -”

“Directed masturbation,” Root interrupts, and her face falls when she realizes Shaw hadn’t actually given in first. Shaw laughs and turns to lie on her side to face Root more directly.

“So your god tells you how to get off, huh?” Shaw asks, taking mercy. Root immediately lights back up and nods. “What does an artificial superintelligence get out of doing that, anyway?”

“She’s always trying to better understand humanity, Sameen. I’m her favorite subject.” She tries to wink and Shaw rolls her eyes, long since resigned to the fact that Root’s utter failure in that department is among the reasons she’s let Root stick around for so long. Root sighs and her face goes soft, taking on that sincerity she only gets when talking about the Machine or Shaw herself. “She knows she asks a lot from me, it’s one of the ways she helps me unwind or deal with stress, especially before we took down Samaritan. Before I had you,” she adds, reaching out to run a hand along Shaw’s hip. “If one of us is away on a mission for a while she’ll still give me a hand, so to speak, but not as often anymore.”

Shaw’s idly hums in acknowledgement, her mind temporarily tripped up on the admittedly very pleasing image of Root with her own hand between her legs, all worked up and desperate to come. She feels a hitch in her breath and clears her throat, ignoring Root’s delight in her obviously wandering thoughts. “So how does that work, exactly?”

“Well,” Root says, letting out a breath, “it’s kind of like everything else we do together. She tells me what to do, and I just… let go and do it. I don’t have to think about what I should think about in order to get in the mood, I don’t have to worry about how long it’s going to take, or where to touch or how fast to go, she decides all that for me. I can just lie back and let her guide my hands and trust that she’ll take care of me.”

Shaw nods; that’s certainly something she can relate to, given how sex with Root ends up half the time. She’s joked about Root subbing for the Machine before, and now that she thinks about it she can’t say she’s all that surprised by how accurate that turned out to be even though Root’s never struck her as the type to actually submit to anyone. Though, to be fair, Shaw probably doesn’t come across as the type either. And she probably wouldn’t for anyone other than Root and her ability to find novel ways to restrain her and make her fall apart.

She has a growing suspicion about the Machine’s role in that. The thought can wait, though. “So… she tells you when you’ve got too much stress and tells you what to think about to get you in the mood to have her tell you how to jerk off.” Root gives a little nod and a smile at the summary. “What does she have you think about?”

Root breaks out into a full blown grin, and her wandering hand dips between Shaw’s legs for a brief moment before trailing back up to her chest. “Lately? You. She’ll describe the way your skin flushed the last time I went down on you, or the pattern of bruises I left behind the last time you needed to be punished, or how much you begged me to let you come that time I had you tied up for five hours.” Shaw’s stuttering breath at the memory matches Root’s, and when she glances up her eyes meet ones that are surely as dark as her own. “Before that, but after the CIA safe house, she’d give me probabilities for how things might go if you and I were to ever have sex again and turn them into elaborate scenarios.”

“You mean you and the Machine were fantasizing about me.” Shaw may preen a little at the idea, but certainly won’t tell Root that.

“Can you blame us?” Root reaches around and pinches Shaw’s ass. “She didn’t do that for me before the safe house, though. Thought it’d be a bit ethically dubious, since you still hated me and wouldn’t exactly have been consenting to an artificial superintelligence that knew everything about you basically creating a facsimile of you to get me off. And you know how I feel about full and enthusiastic consent.”

Root punctuates this by leaning close and placing a slow, deep kiss on Shaw’s lips. It lingers for long moments and Shaw is just about to reach out to roll them over before Root pulls away and cocks her head, looking pleased with herself. “Anyway, before then she’d just find me some porn she knew I’d like.”

Shaw snorts and lets herself fall onto her back, watching as Root scoots herself closer on her side to press against her. “What kind of porn?” She eyes Root speculatively, wondering how the subject has never come up. “Let me guess, you go for that high end lesbian kink shit made by actual queer people, the kind you have to subscribe to. Degrading, but like, in a consensual kind of way.”

Root draws back a little, staring at Shaw with an amused look on her face. “You know me so well, Sameen. I’m touched.”

“Easy guess,” Shaw says. “That’s basically us, but porn.”

“Hmm,” Root agrees, eyes flicked down along Shaw’s body. “Speaking of touched… Based on the way you reacted to the thought of me touching myself, I’m going to guess you’ve got a thing for that. Masturbation porn, is that your go-to?”

Shaw scoffs. “That shit’s boring. You, I’d watch. Anyone else…” The shoulder closest to Root shrugs and she pauses to think. Nothing in particular stands out, she’s never paid for porn and aside from the stuff where the woman is obviously not enjoying herself she can’t think of anything she’s watched that hasn’t gotten the job done. “Guess I can go for pretty much anything, really.”

“I bet I know who someone who can tell us,” Root says, waggling her eyebrow. Shaw sees her tip her head toward her implant and lets out a sigh before nodding.

Figures.

Root grins and pecks her on the cheek. “Hi there,” she calls out into the room. “Do you know Shaw’s favorite kind of porn?”

 _“Primary Asset Shaw’s browsing history shows no clear preference for any particular genre.”_ The Machine’s voice emanates from Shaw’s phone on the bedside table, still clearly artificial and somewhat stilted, but no longer made up of an amalgamation of recordings. _“Videos indexed with the tag ‘creampie’ do comprise the category with the single largest proportion of views, however.”_

Root quirks an eyebrow and Shaw takes a moment to reflect. “Seems legit,” she shrugs.

“That’s a good way to get diseases, Sameen.” Root’s nose wrinkles. “Or pregnant.”

“Not if you’re the one doing it to me,” Shaw counters, and huffs a little at the look on Root’s face. It’s pure bafflement, no judgment as far as she can tell, but still. “It’s a fantasy, all right? Half the time we use a strapon you talk about coming inside me, it’s hot to think about you actually doing it.”

Root’s confusion turns into the kind of wolfish grin that tells Shaw she’s either in trouble or in for a treat - or, more often than not, both. “You know… I bet the Machine and I could figure out a way to make that happen for you.”

Shaw’s gaze falls to Root’s chest and she stares off for a moment, all sorts of delightful images flashing before her eyes. It’s tempting, and she’s sure Root can feel her skin heating up at the thought, but ultimately she shakes her head. “I don’t think I want to deal with the hassle or the mess,” she says, and Root tips her head in acquiescence. “Although…” Shaw hesitates and weighs her options, sizing up Root, her implant, and the anticipatory look in her eyes. “If you wanted to bring me into your sex games with the Machine, I could get into that.”

The utter delight on Root’s face spreads warmth through Shaw’s limbs, separate from the heat increasingly throbbing between her legs. “Oh, I was hoping you’d say that,” she says, and diverts her gaze to the room at large. “Do you have any objections, sweetie?”

The Machine must not object, because Root’s grin only widens and she starts to lean in. Shaw stops her with a hand between her breasts. “Oh no, none of that. If we’re all gonna fuck each other then we’re all gonna hear each other, got it? I don’t want you two conspiring against me.”

 _“Understood,”_ comes the voice from the speaker, and Root smiles indulgently.

“Absolutely.”

Shaw moves her hand from Root’s chest to the back of her neck, pulling her in, and Root makes quick work of pressing her body against hers and capturing her mouth in a bruising kiss. It seems to take only a moment to work back up to where they had been before Shaw disrupted everything with her random thought, and as her senses drown in Root she quickly forgets she’d said anything at all. There are fingers buried inside her and sweat beading off her forehead, her legs are wrapped around Root’s hips as Root fucks her with abandon, and she moans against Root’s mouth as she feels her orgasm rapidly approaching.

Root abruptly pulls away, her chest heaving as she collapses onto Shaw and stretches across the bed toward the nightstand. Shaw curses and moves to flip them over before she sees the bottle in Root’s hand as she draws back and remembers the promises she’d been making earlier. Nodding eagerly at Root’s questioning glance, she spreads her legs to give Root better access and watches as she squeezes a bit of lube onto her fingers.

“Fuck,” Shaw breathes, and Root hums in agreement, settling between her legs, then pauses.

“You wanna start now?” she asks, and at Shaw’s confusion she nods her head toward the phone.

Her nerves are crackling with energy in need of an outlet, and Shaw scarcely hesitates before nodding and pulling Root back down. “Yeah, whatever, someone just fuck me already,” she mumbles against Root’s lips, digging her nails into her shoulders.

“You want to pick up where we left off?” Root only just manages to call out before Shaw bites down on her lip.

_“Very well.”_

Silence fills the room for long moments, Shaw’s hips grinding up against Root as they wait for the Machine’s instructions. She captures Root’s mouth and Root whimpers at the press of her thigh between her legs, both of them growing increasingly desperate in the growing silence. Just as Shaw figures the Machine must have performance anxiety she feels Root reach for the lube again and re-slick her fingers, presumably having the same thought.

_“Insert two digits into Primary Asset Shaw’s anus.”_

They both pause.

Shaw looks up at Root through the curtain of hair partially blocking her view of the utter dismay spreading across her face, and she’s struck with the sudden realization of what Root’s previous sexcapades with the Machine must have been like.

Root lands on her back with a huff as Shaw pushes her away and rolls onto her side, burying her face into her pillow as her body is wracked with uncontrollable laughter.

“It’s sexier if you say ‘fuck her in the ass,’” Root says, and Shaw can hear the pout in Root’s voice even through the pillow.

_“Duly noted.”_


	2. Beta

Despite Root's assurances that she and the Machine have their own shared language that they'd adapted for their codependent next level cybersex sessions, Shaw can't resist the opportunity to get on Root's case about what had happened. Root takes to hiding out in one of her secret safehouses trying to teach the Machine about dirty talk for a few days after the first failed attempt, and Shaw amuses herself on a late night stakeout by dashing off a text.

_When you get home I'm going to leave eight superficial hematomas along your left sternocleidomastoid by applying seventy-five psi of force with my central incisors from its origin to its terminus_

When she checks her messages a few hours and several knocked out security goons later, she shakes her head at Root's reply of _that's the sexiest thing you've ever said to me_ followed by several eggplant emojis.

She should have known Root would be into that.

And hell, she thinks later that night, on her knees as Root makes good on the promise implied by the emojis, if talking like an overachieving anatomy student gets Root going like this then maybe Shaw can get behind it more often. As long as she's the one playing doctor, anyway.

The subject of their freaky threeway doesn't come up again for another two weeks, although Shaw does notice the Machine seems to have decided to speak to her more directly. Only through the various sound systems in the subway hideout and their apartment though, and only for mission-related topics, nothing near the level of connection she has with Root. Her voice has become more human, mildly pleasant but otherwise unremarkable, and Shaw wonders if she picked a random woman somewhere to perfectly emulate. It seems like an effort to get her used to the Machine's voice so it won't pull her out of the moment when she's near an orgasm again, and Shaw can appreciate the gesture.

Shaw comes home on a Thursday night to find Root lounging on the bed with a fancy black box next to her, talking quietly to the Machine in her ear. Her face lights up when she sees Shaw, and it quickly turns heated as she sits up and reaches for the box. Shaw holds up a hand, knowing something is up.

“I'm pretty sure I've got horse shit in my hair, give me a few minutes before this gets all sexy,” she says, waving a hand between them, and retreats into the bathroom as Root calls out something about loving a gal who works hard for a living.

Shaw makes quick work of the shower – as quick work as can be made of scrubbing out what does, in fact, turn out to be horse shit, at least. She's certain that the guy she tackled behind a police horse got the worse end of that deal, though, and her mind wanders to what Root and the Machine might be getting up to in her absence. Whether they're getting started without her, Root's long fingers dancing delicately across her own skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. The Machine describing what the most likely scenarios for the night are, and how they're going to make Shaw come apart. Root's chest stuttering as she reaches between her legs -

The faucet thunks as she switches off the water and wrings out her hair the best she can. She dries off quickly and wraps the towel around herself, forgoing the lounge pants and tank top she knows would just come off again in a few minutes. Root certainly seems pleased with the decision as Shaw steps back into the bedroom, and she rises from the bed to greet her with a lingering kiss.

“Hi, Sameen,” Root says, voice soft as her eyes take Shaw in. Just out of the shower Shaw is her favorite, she'd told her once, and while she'd conceded Shaw's point that there's a direct correlation between what she claims is her favorite version of Shaw and the version of Shaw she's currently looking at, there does always seem to be a particular sparkle in her eye when she plays with Shaw's shower-damp hair.

Shaw takes in the room, noticing little has changed since she'd been in the shower. “She gonna be joining us?”

 _“If that's all right with you.”_ There's a bluetooth speaker on the nightstand and Shaw has to wonder what's to stop some creep from hijacking the signal before she remembers she's dealing with a hacker genius and a literal AI god.

“Show me what you've got,” Shaw dares, a smirk playing about her lips before Root leans back down to cover them with her own. Shaw steps closer and deepens the kiss, letting her hands roam across Root's backside, and she feels her towel come undone as Root's hands do the same. Root hums in delight at that, taking advantage of the newly bared skin to get a handful of Shaw's ass.

Shaw's throat rumbles at the touch and with a bite at Root's bottom lip, she pushes her back toward the bed, letting the towel fall to the floor. Root smiles wide, eyes eager, and her hands work at the buttons of her shirt while Shaw works on her jeans. The Machine remains silent, presumably watching and listening as they strip Root of her remaining clothes and Shaw surges up against her, pressing their already overheated skin together as Root lifts her head to claim Shaw's mouth again.

 _“Show her the box,”_ the Machine says finally, and Root digs her nails into Shaw's back and gives her one last nibble on her lip before pulling away. Shaw rolls off of her, lounging on her side as Root sits up and reaches for the box still sitting on the opposite side of the bed.

“We made some things for you,” Root says, lifting the lid and thoroughly looking like she's up to no good. It's a quality look on her. “Well, for both of you, really. To help you feel… closer.”

First out of the box are a pair of skintight black leather gloves, and Shaw can't help but admire the contrast of the material against Root's skin as she takes a moment to tug one onto her right hand. Root waggles her fingers in the air and Shaw sees an intricate pattern woven along the fingers and palm.

“Conductive threads, connected to a processor and transmitter on the back of the hand.” Root traces a finger along the patterns, tapping a small bump on the other side. Shaw leans closer and Root runs a fingertip along her bicep. “She can feel your skin temperature, your pulse, how hard your muscles are straining… Next best thing to actually being able to touch you.”

Shaw can't say she ever really understood Root's connection to the Machine. She gets it, as far as what the two of them get out of their relationship with the other, but it was never something she wanted to experience for herself. There's something about this, though, that has her body starting to hum in anticipation.

_“They won't be of much use for fucking you, but we are working on that.”_

Shaw glances past Root toward the speaker. “Oh, so you curse now?”

_“I have found it useful, yes.”_

Root's eyes dance, obviously delighted at Shaw and the Machine interacting. “She learned it from you, sweetie. You're very vocal on the recordings we used to teach her how to talk dirty.”

Shaw watches as Root pulls the other glove on, and a thought occurs to her. “So, Root,” she says, letting herself fall over onto her back and putting her hands behind her head. “If the Machine is your top, and if you're my – if I let you top me, and if the Machine and I have as many similarities as you've said in the past, then by the transitive property, doesn't that actually make me your top?”

There's a brief silence as Root stares and Shaw bites back her amusement. “It's simple math, Root. You can't argue with math, you love math.”

Root's breath hitches and Shaw notices a flush running down her neck. “Did you just bring up the transitive property in bed?”

Shaw smirks up at her and Root promptly launches herself forward, claiming her mouth and running her gloved hands down her sides. Shaw's hands wrap around her back and pull her close, taking full advantage of Root's unwavering nerdy talk kink by pressing her thigh in between Root's and feeling the growing wetness there.

 _“I think she deserves a reward, don't you?”_ Root hums in agreement against Shaw's neck, apparently too focused on tasting every inch of skin within reach to speak. _“Don't forget the other thing.”_

That gets Root's full attention, and she springs away from Shaw, leaving her with empty hands and a chill on her skin. She swallows back her annoyance and looks to what Root is pulling from the now empty box.

“Oh hell no,” Shaw immediately says, and Root fakes a pout at her, waving the pair of glasses around by an extended earpiece.

“There are two small cameras in the frames, one just above each lens, so she can see exactly what I see.” Root stops waving the glasses and points to two spots on the black frames. “I mean, she's seen us before, but this is a much more up close and personal view.”

“You know what happened last time you wore glasses in bed, Root. Not happening.” Shaw crosses her arms and decidedly does not picture Root wearing those glasses. The idea of the Machine being able to feel and see her the way Root does while Root is fucking her is… far more appealing than she would have anticipated, and she's so, so weak for Root in glasses, especially Root in nothing _but_ glasses, but she's not giving in.

“That won't happen this time, I promise. These are ANSI-rated for impact resistance and everything.” Root tries her best sultry wink, and Shaw shakes her head. Root looks down at the glasses in her hands and gets a gleam in her eye, unfolding the second earpiece and making like she's going to put them on.

“Don't do it.” Root raises the glasses to her face. “Root, don't even think about it.” The earpieces slide against her skin, and Shaw points a finger in warning. “Don't you dare.”

Root settles the glasses into place, looking imperiously down at Shaw with an eyebrow raised.

Fuck, she’s so weak for that.

“You fight dirty,” Shaw groans, pulling Root down on top of her.

 _“You enjoy it when Root fights dirty,”_ the Machine says, and Shaw wonders when she became a little shit just like Root.

Root laughs into her mouth and Shaw nips at her tongue in retaliation, although looking up and seeing Root’s face framed in her nerd glasses, a playful smile gracing her lips as she moves to run her tongue along Shaw’s ear, washes the last of her annoyance away and replaces it with a warmth she only seems to feel in moments like these. She notices the glint of one of the small cameras in Root’s glasses and feels a sudden self consciousness that the Machine has such an up close view of whatever expression may have just been on her face, but one of Root’s hands makes its way to her chest and rubs over a nipple as Root bites down on her earlobe and all other thoughts are chased away.

Root’s thigh presses against her and Shaw groans into her ear, only realizing it’s the one with the implant when the Machine pipes up again. _“I want to hear more of that.”_

“Happy to oblige,” Root murmurs, and circles a hand around Shaw’s throat. Shaw’s sure the vibrations of her moan when Root squeezes are picked up by the threads in Root’s glove and her hips surge up into Root’s as her other hand increases the pressure on her breast. “How’s that feel?”

She’s not checking in with Shaw, she’s asking the Machine; and with that, Shaw realizes two things. First, Root is falling into one of their familiar patterns in bed rather than involving the Machine in anything all that directly, presumably getting the Machine used to participating in sex and Shaw used to her presence. She’s using Shaw to put on a show - and if the wetness on Shaw’s thigh is anything to go by, she’s getting off on it.

The second thing Shaw realizes is that she’s very, very okay with that.

Her head tips back and she bares her throat to the ceiling as the hand at her neck presses in again, and she’s dimly aware of Root lifting herself a little to watch the pleasure on Shaw’s face despite her eyes having wrenched themselves shut. Her hands grasp at Root’s hips, seeking out any degree of pressure between her own legs, feeling sweat already beading between their bodies.

“Not yet, Shaw,” Root hums, scooting back a little to spread Shaw’s legs at the knees and kneel between them. “She wants to feel everything.”

Root sits back to watch her, running her hands along her thighs. _“Her muscles are twitching to move, but she’s resisting,”_ the Machine says, and Shaw isn’t sure if she imagined the fascination in her voice or not.

“She’s good like that,” Root smiles proudly down at her, and fuck, this exhibitionist streak Shaw didn’t realize she had is just getting worse and worse. Or better, as the case may be, given how Root’s gloved hands have barely even done anything to her and she still feels like she’s melting under their touch.

Root leans forward and turns her head to drop a kiss to Shaw’s hip as she moves both of her hands to her breasts, roughly running her palms over the nipples before digging her fingertips into the soft flesh. Shaw feels another low moan rumble out from her throat and Root shifts closer, leaning over her enough for her hair to brush Shaw’s overly sensitive skin as her hands continue to roam across her chest.

“We’re going to explore every inch of you before this is over, Sameen. She wants to know what it’s like to be so close to you, don’t you want to give that to her?” Shaw nods blindly, focusing on the sensation of the stitching of the leather gloves gliding over her scars and breasts and ribs. “It’s a shame we can’t use these to fuck you, though like she said, we’re working on that.”

Root leans down and brushes her lips against Shaw’s before moving to murmur in her ear. “She wants so badly to know what it’s like to be inside you.”

“Fuck,” Shaw breathes, and twitches as she feels sparks race across her skin at the thought. Root pulls back and Shaw belatedly realizes it was an actual shock, centered at the point of contact between Root’s fingertips and her skin. She blinks up at her through the loss of sensation, a look of consternation on Root’s face.

“Must be some wires shorting with your sweat getting on the threads,” she says, and starts to pull one of the gloves off.

“No, wait,” Shaw stops her. “I think I’m into it.” Root looks amused for a brief moment, then her pupils go dark and Shaw licks her lips at the promise there. 

_“The current carried by the gloves poses no threat of actual harm.”_

“Did you plan this?” Root asks the Machine, looking not at all upset by the thought.

_“I realized my original design for the gloves gave rise to the possibility, and I saw no reason to fix the issue.”_

Shaw feels a grin tugging at her lips and pulls Root’s hands back to her hips, where she knows there’s a slight pooling of sweat. She’s rewarded with a few shocks in quick succession, superficial, but still enough to make her breath stutter, and they seem to go straight to her clit. “I like the way you think, Siri.”

_“I like the way you tremble under my touch, Shaw.”_

Shaw has only a moment to admire the job they did with the Machine’s dirty talk subroutines before Root closes her mouth around one of her nipples and squeezes the other one between her fingertips. She lets out a startled moan that only gets more drawn out as Root leans in enough for her abdomen to be pressing in between Shaw’s legs, and Shaw lets her hips drive erratically against her smooth skin in search of any amount of friction.

Root makes good on her word, and Shaw loses track of time against the relentless roaming of her hands along every bit of her skin, small shocks following in her wake in an intoxicatingly unpredictable pattern. She’s on her stomach, Root leaving a trail of kisses down her spine while she lands a few smacks on either side of her ass, when the Machine finally speaks again.

_“I think she’s had enough.”_

Root hums in agreement and helps Shaw flip over onto her back. “She looks so beautiful like this, though,” she says, smug as her eyes follow the tracks of scratches and bite marks she left behind, as much for the Machine’s benefit as her own. Shaw’s chest is heaving, her skin flushed, and she knows she probably looks as strung out as she feels.

 _“Let me see her come,”_ the Machine says, and Shaw’s pretty sure that the implication of her being a plaything that Root and the Machine are sharing shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but she can’t bring herself to care.

Root gives her a quick assessing glance, though, and must see the sentiment on her face. Giving her a wolfish grin, she adjusts her glasses and strips the glove off her right hand, leaving the left one on. She scoots back on the bed, hunched over on her knees to give the Machine a full view of just how wet and ready Shaw is.

Two fingers slip easily inside, and Shaw’s head presses back against her pillow and she can’t keep a long, drawn out moan from escaping at the sudden relief of her body’s pent up tension. Root starts an easy pace, surely for the Machine’s voyeuristic benefit so she can see just how Shaw’s body reacts. She can’t blame her; Shaw has a tendency to stare at the way her fingers are taken in by Root’s heat nearly every time she’s in the mood for a little penetration. 

A thumb comes up to her clit and Shaw shudders, Root’s gloved hand coming up to palm at a breast again. Her eyes wrench back open to watch and find Root watching right back, her gaze fixed on the heaving of Shaw’s chest and the open expressions of pleasure on her face. Root turns her head just a little to bite at the inside of her thigh and Shaw tenses, knowing what’s coming.

Sure enough, Root flicks her hair behind her back and tears her hand away, quickly replacing it with her tongue. Shaw’s hands dig into her shoulders and a jumble of curses falls out of her mouth as Root situates herself and licks at her flesh with enthusiasm, her gaze never wavering from Shaw’s own. And fuck, is that an intoxicating sight, Root with her mouth working between her legs, her nerd glasses perfectly framing her face as she looks up at her. Why did she even ban glasses from the bed in the first place? This is… fuck, this is too much to handle, her nerves getting shot from the remaining glove and the lips and tongue at her clit and oh, fuck, Root slipping her fingers back inside and picking up a frenetic pace to match that of Shaw’s own hips.

Pressure builds inside her and as her eyes fall closed she hears herself let out a whimper as her breath hitches, and she hears Root do the same as she adjusts the angle of her head to get even closer. She knows from experience that Root’s eyes will be closed by now, wrapped up in the sensations of Shaw surrounding her, but the Machine is surely still watching, still monitoring her reactions through the glasses perched just over her clit and the glove still gripping her breast and the implant at Root’s ear that can doubtlessly pick up the wet sound of Root’s fingers fucking her so intently, and as if to punctuate the thought another shock arcs out at her nipple and it sends her over the edge, her hands tangling into Root’s hair to hold her head in place as her legs tighten around her as her orgasm courses through every muscle in her body.

She hears Root make a noise and jerk her gloved hand back toward herself, but it’s long moments of letting herself bask in the aftershocks before she slackens her grip on Root’s hair and loosens her muscles and realizes what it was for. Shaw becomes aware of twin sharp stings of pain on the insides of each of her thighs, and she lets her breathing calm down before she opens her eyes and sees Root holding her mangled glasses in her hands, at least having the good sense to look contrite.

Shaw glares up at her anyway. She _always_ clamps her thighs around Root’s head when she’s eating her out, surely the Machine could have predicted this and stopped them before stupid sexy glasses-wearing Root got her way. Instead, she’s been stabbed in the thighs. Again.

“Root.”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Did your glasses break while you were going down on me again?”

Root rubs the thin streaks of blood away with a thumb. “Your thighs are just so strong, Sameen.”

“Root.” Shaw puts a little edge in her voice, and Root tries to look innocent. The obvious sex hair completely ruins the effect. “Either you swear you’ll never wear glasses while you’re eating me out again, or that was the last time your mouth goes anywhere near my junk.”

The glasses arc into the air as Root tosses them away, looking aghast. “Scout’s honor,” she says, and promptly buries her head between Shaw’s legs again. Shaw shudders from the sudden stimulation of her overly sensitive clit, a stuttering laugh-moan rising up from her throat.

_“That was the emptiest threat I’ve ever heard.”_

Shaw juts a threatening finger out at the speaker, tangling her other hand in Root’s hair. “Don’t think I won’t cut you off too.” 

_“Understood.”_

The Machine falls quiet, and the silence in the room is punctuated only by the increasingly obscene wet sounds of Root’s mouth on her flesh and her occasional gasp for breath. 

“That’s what I thought.” Satisfied, Shaw settles in, wrapping her legs around Root with her ankles crossed at the small of her back, and lets herself go.


	3. Full Release

There’s another fancy black box sitting between them on the bed. 

Shaw glances between Root and the box, a contained expression of glee on Root’s face and the box looking suspiciously innocuous. Both Root and the Machine have assured her there are no more stabby glasses to be had, but the way both of them have been acting in the past few weeks makes it clear that they’ve been leading up to something. And that something is in this box.

Root shifts on the bed, crossing her stupid sexy giraffe legs as she reaches for the box. Shaw’s gaze automatically follows the length of them, admiring the smooth skin and lean muscle on display since Root had convinced her they both might as well go ahead and get naked. “So, Sameen,” Root says brightly, running her fingers along the lid in an entirely too distracting fashion. “As you know, last time was about getting you and the Machine used to each other. We were thinking that tonight she could be more of an… active participant.”

 _“Unless you have any objections,”_ the Machine says, and Shaw startles for a moment at her new voice. It’s throatier, deeper - Shaw can’t help the ridiculous immediate notion that it’s the voice of a seductive older woman reclining on a fur rug by the fireplace in the middle of a rainstorm with a glass of whiskey in her hand. Utterly devastating, if you’re into that sort of thing.

Shaw clears her throat and Root gives a little sympathetic nod. “When did you get the sex voice?”

 _“I’ve been working on it for a while. Root calls it my lesbian kryptonite voice, but I’m sure it’ll work on you too.”_ She sounds positively smug, and Shaw is amused despite herself.

“You’ve already taken it for a spin, huh?” she asks Root, who just winks and pecks her on the cheek.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

 _“I think she would,”_ the Machine says pointedly.

“I’m getting to that,” Root pouts, pulling the box up into her lap. She looks back up at Shaw, eyes full of anticipation and Shaw can’t help but get caught up in it. “Remember that first night, when I said sometimes she’d just tell me what to do to get myself off and I’d let go and do it, trusting that she’d take care of me?” Shaw nods, still somewhat put out that she hasn’t gotten to witness that yet. “Well, we’re thinking we can do that tonight. Except it won’t be me we’re getting off, it’ll be you.”

Shaw’s breath hitches. “So you’ll be fucking me, but really it’ll be her in control of everything.”

_“Exactly.”_

“And I know you said you wanted to hear everything she says to me, but the way she speaks to me when she’s directing me to do things… we think you’d just find that distracting. The general instructions, she’ll use the speaker for. The details will go to my implant, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, all right.” Shaw watches the rapid rise and fall of Root’s chest as she eyes her intently, biting her lip. “And the voice?”

“She used it while she was talking me though assembling some things to make it easier for her to be in control,” Root says, patting the box. “She explained in… incredibly thorough detail how we’d be using them.”

_“It’s a very effective voice.”_

Shaw meets Root’s dark eyes. “I noticed.”

“Trust me, Sameen,” Root murmurs. “You’re gonna love it.”

She reaches out to tap a finger on the top of the box, leaning in with a smirk. “Show me hers and I’ll show her mine.”

Root’s grin quickly goes out of view as she meets Shaw in a fierce kiss, pulling away after long moments with Shaw’s bottom lip between her teeth. “Shall we?” She cocks an eyebrow and, at Shaw’s nod, lifts the lid.

And oh, Shaw definitely likes what she sees.

Root pulls out a pair of thick leather wrist cuffs first. They look fairly standard, some padding on the inside of the wrists and durable buckles on the outside, but Root points to a large metal square on the side of each cuff.

_“Electromagnets, so I can keep you where I want you. Root installed matching ones on the headboard, or they can connect to each other.”_

“Nice,” Shaw breathes, taking one from Root’s hands.

“They’re lined with force sensors so she can tell how hard you’re pulling at them, too,” Root says. “So many people would kill for the tech to make electromagnets this small and strong.”

Shaw grins up at her. “And we’re using them to fuck a computer.”

 _“A computer is using them to fuck you,”_ the Machine corrects, and Shaw shrugs. _“Put them on.”_

Shaw shivers at the order, a pleasant thrill running up her spine. Root helps her fasten the cuffs around her wrists, tightening them snugly against her skin as Shaw watches. As soon as the second buckle is in place, she feels a sharp tug and the magnets snap into place against each other. She tries to pull her arms apart but the cuffs refuse to budge, and she feels heat growing between her legs as she looks up at Root.

“She controls the current that turns them on or off,” Root explains, licking her lips. “But there’s a physical switch too if something goes wrong.”

Shaw throws her still-linked arms over Root’s head and pulls her in, falling backwards from the force as she kisses her desperately. Her legs slot in between Root’s and Root makes a whimpering noise against her lips before Shaw feels her wrists come apart and her arms fall to the sides.

 _“I didn’t say go yet,”_ the Machine admonishes them, and Root pulls away, looking sheepish.

“Sorry.” Root sits up and pulls the box toward her. Shaw moves to follow but the Machine stops her.

 _“Stay there, Shaw.”_ Without thinking, Shaw lets herself flop back onto the mattress, arms still weighed down with the cuffs lying spread eagle across the bed. She blinks at herself, then at Root, who’s pulling a collar out of the box with a knowing look.

Oh, this is going to be so, so dangerous.

“Some more sensors in this one, for pulse and respiration and the like,” Root says, gliding her fingers along the soft leather of the inside of the collar before inserting one end into what must be the buckle on the other. “But the real attraction…” She holds it up so Shaw can watch as the circle formed by the collar shrinks, tightening itself before loosening again.

_“Sliding magnetic buckle. I know how much you like your breathplay, Shaw.”_

“Fuck,” Shaw breathes, nodding against Root’s loose hair as she leans forward to fasten the collar around her throat. She swallows and feels the leather tighten slightly, just enough to show the promise of what’s to come. 

Root pulls back a little to look into Shaw’s eyes, and Shaw knows they’re both already more far gone than they have any right to be at this point. They’ve barely even made out, for fuck’s sake. But fuck if Shaw can’t even bring herself to care. Root’s fingers trace the skin just under the collar, raising goosebumps in their wake, and she stops at a certain spot near the buckle. “There’s a kill switch for the current in case of disaster, but otherwise she’s in control.”

The collar tightens again as if to prove the point, digging a little more into her skin, and Shaw lets out a gasp at the sensation, her head swimming and her nerves crawling out of her skin.

 _“One more thing,”_ the Machine says, loosening the collar as Root reaches for the last item and shoves the box over the edge of the bed. Root brandishes it at her, and Shaw snorts at the sight of the black feeldoe flopping around in the air.

“Let me guess, this one’s been modified too,” Shaw says, and while she’s giving it her best shot at a teasing tone she’s pretty sure it just came out breathless.

Root smiles indulgently. “It’s hard to modify solid silicone, we had to start from scratch. Took us a while, too, but we’ve worked out all the kinks. So to speak,” she winks. Two fingers wrap around the smaller bulb end as Root situates herself on her knees. “There’s a vibrator in this end for me, which she controls, of course.”

“Of course,” Shaw nods, eyeing Root’s hand as she traces a single fingertip along the length of the business end of the dildo.

“As for the rest… Well. It’s amazing, the kind of microsensors you can pack under the surface of this thing.” Root’s hand stops its motion and wraps her fingers around the toy, her other hand coming down to pat Shaw’s abdomen just above her clit. “You remember how she said she wants to know what it’s like to be inside you?”

Shaw’s struck with the sudden realization that it’s really going to be the Machine fucking her, and her head presses back against the bed as her eyes fall closed with a groan. Fuck, this shouldn’t be this hot, why is this so hot? Root’s gotten into her head too much with her relationship with the Machine, she’s probably to blame for the way her pulse is racing and her legs are clenching, desperately seeking any relief for the pressure building within her.

“She’s going to be able to feel every last bit of you, Sameen,” Root breathes, watching the way Shaw’s skin has flushed. “How wet you are, how tight you are, how hard your muscles clamp down around us… She’s going to know you better than I do.” Shaw blinks up at Root, feeling her anticipation recede a little at that, and Root smiles softly at her, kissing her forehead lightly in apology. “Dramatic license, sweetie. Everything the sensors pick up will be relayed to me too.”

Root taps a finger at her implant and Shaw shakes her head at her, feeling the sudden tension receding. “Can you save the drama for some other time? Like when it’s not getting in the way of fucking me?”

“Oh, you want somebody to fuck you?” Root makes a pleased face, patting Shaw’s clit with the heavy end of the dildo and making her shudder. “Sorry, that’s not up to me.”

 _“Wrap your hands around the bars with the magnets, Shaw.”_ Shaw spares a moment to exchange an admittedly excited glance with Root before tilting her head back to find the magnets in question. Her hands wrap around the metal bars at either end of the headboard and she immediately feels the magnets in her cuffs lock onto the corresponding ones on the back sides of the bars.

Root admires her muscles as she gives her widespread arms an experimental tug, feeling no give in the magnets or the bars themselves. The collar at her throat tightens, just enough to make her aware of it again, and Shaw wiggles on the bed, her hips lifting involuntarily into the air for a moment.

 _“Straddle her, Root,”_ the Machine instructs, and Shaw licks her lips as things finally seem to be getting somewhere. Root swings a leg over her hips, tossing a pointed look at Shaw that has her puzzled until she realizes Root is coming to a rest on her abdomen, the dildo lying abandoned near her knee. Fuck. 

_“Make her watch you come.”_

Double fuck.

The restraints barely rattle as Shaw tries to reach out to Root, and Root merely arches an eyebrow at her and falls forward a little, bracing herself on the headboard with a hand between Shaw’s. Root’s other hand reaches between her own legs and two fingers circle around her clit, eliciting a tiny gasp from between her lips.

Shaw can only stare as Root’s fingers dance, dipping into her wetness for short moments before coming back up to draw rapid circles over her clit. She lifts her head in a vain attempt to get closer to Root but the collar tightens and she takes the hint, falling back and gasping for breath right along with Root. Whimpers fill the air as Root’s fingers disappear inside herself, and Shaw abandons the sight in favor of watching Root where she’s hovering over her, eyes fallen shut and her hair dangling almost into Shaw’s face. 

“Please…” Root breathes, and Shaw wonders for a moment why she’s begging before she remembers that the Machine is controlling the movements of Root’s hand and feels a renewed flash of arousal coursing through her.

 _“In a moment,”_ the Machine says in a murmured promise, and Shaw has to agree - Root barely holding on at the edge like this, her deference to her god the only thing keeping her from sending herself over, is a sight to behold.

Root’s eyelids flutter open and Shaw can see her pupils blown wide, desperation in her eyes as she locks onto Shaw’s gaze. Shaw gives her an encouraging little nod, wrists jolting as she tries to reach up to pull Root down for a kiss and forgets the presence of the cuffs. She can feel the angle of Root’s hand change and she figures the Machine told her to let her palm rub against her clit as she fucks herself because Root lets out a wanton moan and her grip on the headboard slips. She catches herself with a hand on Shaw’s sternum, and as she leans back a little Shaw’s gaze is again drawn to the hand visibly slick with her own wetness.

The Machine interrupts her daze. _“You can let go now,”_ she says, and nearly immediately Shaw sees spasms wrack Root’s body, her hand never ceasing its movements even as she falls forward again. Her chest is nearly within reach of Shaw’s mouth if she strains her neck, and she ignores the tightening of the collar for long moments, feeling her rapid breath cascading warmth over Root’s skin, but Root’s other hand comes up to her forehead and pushes her back down with a huffed laugh amongst her shuddering breaths.

“Take the hint, sweetie,” Root gasps, smiling indulgently at her regardless of the Machine’s castigation. “She said stay there.”

Shaw shrugs, unrepentant. “Your little masturbation sessions always that hot?”

“Not usually.” Root pauses, taking in several deep breaths, and finally shakes her head to toss her hair back. “You bring it out in me.”

There’s a clunk and Shaw feels her wrists fall onto the bed, and she wastes no time in seizing Root by the back of her neck and pulling her in. Root lands with a surprised yelp on top of her but quickly responds to Shaw’s tongue at her lips and kisses her just as voraciously. Shaw’s hips grind up into Root’s and one of her hands dig into Root’s ass, pulling her closer as the other tangles in Root’s hair. She can feel Root’s wet fingers at her neck, a thumb pressing in at the hollow of her throat under the collar and she thinks it’s way past time to put the dildo she can feel digging into her side to work.

The hand at Root’s ass reaches out to fumble for the toy and as her fingers wrap around it Root hums against her lips and pulls away, tsking at Shaw.

“That’s not yours,” Root says, taking the dildo from her.

 _“I think she’s earned it.”_ The collar pulses briefly, and Shaw takes that as the Machine’s equivalent of Root patting her on the ass.

“Yeah, Root, I’ve earned it,” she teases, jerking her hips up. “Hurry up and fuck me.”

The collar tightens more than it has so far, Root smirking down at her, and Shaw feels her vision blurring before it lets up. _“She’ll fuck you when I tell her to,”_ the Machine tells her, though she doesn’t need the verbal reminder.

“She gonna tell you to spank me now?”

Root smiles and shakes her head, leaning down to whisper secretively in Shaw’s ear. “I think she’s as impatient to get inside you as you are.”

 _“Get yourself ready, Root.”_

Shaw’s hands fall away from where they’d tightened around Root’s hips as she pulls back and settles on her knees between Shaw’s legs. She watches as Root picks up the dildo and gives the length of it an experimental squeeze, presumably checking with the Machine to make sure the sensors are still in working order. Root’s eyes stray to Shaw’s as she sits up a little and guides the smaller end of the dildo inside herself, letting out a gasp as it slides into place. The other end juts out from her body, bobbing a little with Root’s breath, and fuck, if Shaw doesn’t feel that sliding into her in the next two minutes she’s going to combust.

Root’s hand strokes along the length of the dildo for a moment, watching Shaw with anticipation. She leans forward to kiss her and Shaw groans at the press of hard silicone against her, so close to where she needs it but nothing near close enough.

 _“Fix her restraints,”_ the Machine calls out, and Root doesn’t break the kiss as her hands glide along the length of Shaw’s arms. Shaw lets her tug at her wrists until her arms are stretched out over her head, crossing at the wrists around a single bar, and she hears the telltale clack of the magnets securing together as Root pulls away.

“Don’t worry, Sameen. She knows your safeword.”

“Fine, but don’t expect me to beg,” Shaw says, cocky until the last. “She’s your top, not mine.”

Root pauses for a moment. “Oh, sweetie,” she says finally, shaking her head a little. “You’re going to wish you hadn’t said that.”

With that, she seizes Shaw by the hips and slides the tip of the dildo along her wetness, circling her clit for a brief moment before pushing forward, burying the length of it inside until Root’s hips meet hers. The sudden deep sensation of fullness coils in her belly and she moans low in her throat, her head tipped back as her legs wrap around Root’s waist and force her even closer.

“Oh, fuck,” Root groans, her head lowered to watch the movements of the dildo as she gives a few shallow thrusts and stills, giving them all a moment to adjust. Shaw squeezes her muscles around the toy as her legs do the same around Root’s hips.

“Fuck yeah,” she breathes, feeling a little less on edge, at least for the moment.

_“I believe I know what you mean.”_

Shaw laughs and clamps down around the dildo again a few times, watching Root’s face as the movements tug at the end inside her. “You like that, huh?”

 _“I very much want to fuck you now,”_ the Machine says by way of answer, and Root’s fingers tighten at Shaw’s hips as she withdraws most of the way and thrusts back in, one swift stroke that has Shaw straining at her cuffs, spine arching off the bed.

Shaw’s hips meet Root’s in a surely bruising rhythm, short, quick strokes punctuated by the occasional slower, deeper thrust as the Machine directs Root’s movements. Root loses her rhythm for a moment as she adjusts her position to press her chest against Shaw’s, but she quickly finds it again and Shaw bumps her in the mouth with her chin as the new angle puts more pressure on her clit and causes a new haze of moans to come out of her throat.

Root gasps against her skin at the exertion, Shaw only just managing to capture one of her lips between her teeth through the erratic motion of their bodies. Her blood is racing and the spasms of her muscles against the dildo are becoming less controlled, and she feels the collar tighten just enough to make her lungs stutter right as Root abruptly stops moving, still buried deep inside her.

The cuffs barely rattle as she strains against them, and Root gasps for breath with her forehead against hers. _“Your heart rate is 153 beats per minute, Shaw. I think Root should slow things down until we get that to a safer level, don’t you?”_

Shaw feels a nip at her ear and turns to give Root better access and glare at the speaker. “ _My_ heart? She’s the one whose heart Control tried to explode that one time.”

_“You’re the one with the collar.”_

Root chuckles against her skin as Shaw lets out a huff. “Told you you’d regret being a smartass, Sameen.”

“So she gets to be a smartass instead?” Her grumbling fades away as Root presses a kiss to her lips, and her body rocks gently against her, barely moving the dildo. Shaw wills herself to not roll her hips against the toy and breathes deeply through her nose as she lets herself get lost in Root’s kiss and the way her hands are roaming along the outstretched muscles of her arms.

Root hums at the simple pleasures and Shaw can’t help but agree, although the simmering energy coiling through her muscles won’t lay dormant for long. She’s unsure how long the Machine makes them wait, Root peppering light kisses along whatever patches of skin she can reach without moving her body, and just as Shaw is starting to feel itchy about the degree of sentiment she can feel building between them, the Machine pipes back up.

_“You’re at seventy-nine. Try not to go over one-fifty again.”_

Root’s hands slide between the mattress and the curve of her biceps to grip at her shoulders, and her fingers dig into the muscle as her hips abruptly resume a punishing rhythm and Shaw shouts aloud at the sudden stimulation. The smooth silicone feels fucking incredible as it slides out of her and pushes back in, and Shaw struggles against her restraints, wanting to dig her fingers into the muscles of Root’s ass as she thrusts into her, but settles for locking her ankles together at the small of Root’s back instead.

The shift in position bends her knees into the air and opens her up for Root to get closer, and she feels Root shift and let out a moan at the way the rocking of Shaw’s hips pulls the end that’s inside her right against her g-spot. Root tries to drop a kiss to her lips but her head rocks backward instead as she gasps out a curse at the sudden activation of the vibrator that Shaw can feel through the length of the toy. Shaw takes advantage of the bare throat before her and leaves several blossoming bite marks along Root’s skin before she feels the collar tightening once again.

It’s enough to make her vision swim, and she lets herself float away for a long moment until she feels Root still her hips and prop herself up on her hands, the vibrations of the dildo stopped for now. 

_“You got to 154 that time, Shaw.”_

Shaw gapes up in disbelief at Root, who merely gives her a what-can-you-do smile. “You tightened my collar, my body thought it was going to die. That hardly seems fair.”

_“Relax, Shaw. You’ve got a way to go until you’re under eighty again.”_

Root pecks her on the lips as she growls, and this time, it seems, Root’s under different orders. She hovers over Shaw, her breasts just brushing Shaw’s, and adjusts her legs before slowly withdrawing the dildo most of the way out. She watches Shaw intently as her hips gradually move forward, an excruciatingly slow thrust that makes Shaw want to claw at her skin. She pulls back again and Shaw lets out a long, drawn out moan at the continuous sensation. Root’s motions are steady and calm, but they’re far from relaxing; the extended stimulation is nearly too much to handle, and she doesn’t know how she can possibly will her heart rate to get under control.

The mattress shifts as Root pulls away, maintaining her slow thrusts inside her as she sits up and Shaw looks down her body at her, watching as a hand draws near and she braces herself as Root’s thumb brushes against her clit. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” comes out breathlessly, and she hears a whimper escape her lips as her head tosses back at the firm circles of pressure Root’s thumb draws around her clit, the motions of the dildo never ceasing. 

Root gasps along with her as the Machine turns the vibrations in Root’s end of the toy back on. Shaw can feel her muscles spasming against it and Root’s free hand smooths across her stomach in what she’s sure was intended to be a calming gesture but serves only to make her twitch under the added stimulation, and it’s impossible that this slow kind of fuck can build her up like this but here she is, straining against the cuffs at her wrists as Root’s hips meet hers on another deep, rolling thrust, and she feels the collar at her neck start to constrict and loosen in time with Root’s movements and it’s all too much.

“Fuck, please,” she breathes, and Root’s hips stutter for just a moment. She falls forward onto Shaw again and kisses her just as desperately as Shaw feels, and she can’t tell whether it’s Root or the Machine rewarding her with the touch. 

_“Root,”_ the Machine says, only just breaking through the haze of lust into Shaw’s awareness. She feels her cuffs disconnect and she wastes no time in wrapping her arms around Root’s back, so tight they’ll doubtlessly find buckle marks imprinted in her skin in a few hours. _“Make her come with the dildo deep inside. I want to feel her orgasm.”_

Shaw bites down hard at the juncture of Root’s neck and shoulder in lieu of the moan that wants to escape at that, but Root feels no such reservation and vocalizes her approval of that idea straight into Shaw’s ear even as her legs shift to give herself better leverage. Her hips start up a furious rhythm, the dildo pounding hard and deep and so, so good.

“You feel incredible, Sameen,” Root murmurs, words slurred a little by her exertion, and Shaw digs her nails into her skin. “I wish you spoke our language so you could understand what she’s telling me about how it feels to be inside you like this.” 

Root delivers a particularly sharp thrust and Shaw trembles as she feels her body start to give itself over to the rush of pleasure. The pressure at her throat tightens and her brain can’t focus on anything but the way Root is moving inside her, hips angled just right to put pressure on her clit.

“She can feel the flutter of your muscles, she thinks you’re close.” Root’s breathing is heavy and washes over Shaw’s overheated skin, and Shaw buries her face in Root’s neck, nodding absently as the the vibrations she can feel through the dildo increase in intensity. She can scarcely breathe, and she’s not sure if it’s from the collar or her body being about to crash. Root moans in her ear again as Shaw’s nails claw at her back, and her hips only pick up the pace.

 _“Next time she’s up for it, I think I’ll have you use that toy on Root,”_ the Machine says, and Shaw’s mind latches onto the thought of making Root feel just like this and runs with it.

“Holy - _fuck_ ,” she only just manages to get out before her orgasm takes over, and her limbs lock Root into place, muscles straining against her where they’re wrapped around her back and hips. The collar loosens and the sudden rush of air and blood to her brain throws more gas on the flame and her body spasms against Root, wave after wave crashing over her in the onslaught. She’s only dimly aware of the Machine encouraging Root to keep fucking her until she comes too but it seems wholly unnecessary as Root’s thrusts come to a stuttering halt with the dildo deep inside her and her hands come to Shaw’s hips to keep her in place.

Not that she’d be able to move anytime soon, the muscles of her arms still twitching around Root as she shudders in the aftershocks. Root’s lungs freeze as she comes and after long, impossibly intense moments their bodies relax just enough for Root to collapse on top of her, Shaw’s arms and legs falling away to the side. 

Shaw’s swimming brain has no concept of time as they regain their breath, and it’s jolted back to life when Root’s hips twitch and move the dildo inside her. She lets out an involuntary gasp that has Root smiling at her and she tries to give a few more thrusts before the overstimulation gets to her and she pulls out, tossing the toy aside and flopping back down onto the bed beside Shaw.

_“That was a satisfying experiment.”_

Shaw snorts and glances over at the speaker. “Oh so that was just an experiment, huh? Cause it sure sounded like you were getting your circuits off.” She feels Root’s shoulders quake and sees her biting her tongue out of the corner of her eye.

_“It would be detrimental to my wellbeing to turn any of my circuits off.”_

Root covers her mouth and shakes her head at Shaw’s questioning look. “You know what I meant, nerd,” Shaw says.

_“I have data to analyze. I’ll leave you two to your aftercare.”_

There’s a click as the speaker turns itself off and the room falls silent as Shaw stares at it for a beat before turning to look at Root. “She always go from suave seductress to awkward turtle as soon as she gets you off?”

Root turns onto her side and reaches out to pat Shaw’s hip. “It was her first time, give her some space. Probably just a little kernel panic.” 

She laughs a little at her own joke, and Shaw watches her for a moment. “So are you you again, then?”

“I’m always me when I’m with you, Sameen.” Root leans toward her and captures her lips, running a hand along her chest up to her throat. Her fingers play at the locking mechanism of the collar as her tongue brushes lightly at Shaw’s, and the collar falls away as she pulls back and smiles at her.

Watching Root sit up and take each of her wrists in her hands, gently unbuckling the cuffs and massaging the skin beneath, reminds Shaw of a question she never got around to asking. “The Machine ever help you come up with new ways to tie me up before this whole thing started?”

Root’s hands still against her wrist, and she quirks an eyebrow. “The Machine helps me come up with new ways to do a lot of things.”

“So that’s a yes,” Shaw says, poking Root in the ribs as she lies back down against her. “We never had sex before you had the Machine in your ear all the time, how do I know any of that was ever actually you?”

Root gives her a scandalized look and Shaw smirks up at her, pleased to be the one doing the teasing again. Her breath is forced from her lungs as Root rolls over on top of her, a promising gleam in her eye. “I can show you, if you like,” she says, reaching behind her ear to fiddle with her implant.

Shaw tangles her fingers in Root’s hair and pushes her down the length of her body.

“Prove it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charcharcat did an amazing drawing of this scene, [check it out](http://web.archive.org/web/20181205070329/http://charcharcrap.tumblr.com/post/167981556585/please-root-breathes-and-shaw-wonders-for-a)!


End file.
